A Less Than Extraordinary Life
by hsw2710
Summary: 2 years have passed since Agloe, and Margot Roth Speigelman walks back into Quentin's life...
1. Chapter 1

Quentin Jacobsen had done his best to move on and live life. He had told himself that Margot Roth Speigelman had just been a girl, troubled and trying to find herself and that he should do the same. He had thrown himself into college life, attempting to reclaim just an ounce of that heart pumping feeling he had experienced on the night he and Margot took over their town. That feeling she had told him proved he was having fun.

He had resolved in heart and mind that he would never again see Margot in person. And after she started appearing on magazine covers, and billboards, cinema screens and his own television, he knew for sure that he had lost her for good and that the time they had spent together was an amazing dream.

He had to wake up.

And then she walked onto his college campus…

 _..._

 _"_ _Bring your own lampshades, somewhere there's a party_. _Here it's never ending, can't remember when it started..."_

'This song reminds me of you.'

'It does? Why?'

'I'm not too sure why. I think it might have been playing the first time I saw you.' Except he doesn't think; Quentin knows without a doubt in his mind that this song was playing the second he laid eyes on the girl standing opposite him. She looks the same as she had been in Agloe. She's wearing cut off denims and black converse shoes, a black and white striped shirt and a dark leather jacket. Time had lay its hands on everything except for Margot Roth Speigelman. It was completely unfair and yet it made perfect sense to him. He was glad that fame hadn't seemed to change her, at least not in any visible way.

He wanders around the bookstore and walks through some of the shelves, always careful to leave a fair bit of distance between them for fear he might scare her away. When she had walked in two minutes ago, casually like she'd been here all along, he almost lost it. Thankfully the bookstore on campus wasn't pumping with students at that moment. There would have been an uncontrollable mob of screaming fans if any of the students realized Margot Roth Speigelman had just stepped onto campus. He wonders for a moment how she managed to slip past without anybody recognizing her before remembering she was the greatest ninja he had ever met. At first he hadn't shifted, thinking he had finally lost his mind and slipped into hallucinating about her. But when she stood in the entryway, smiling at him slyly, he finally pulled himself together.

'You look different,' she says simply. He had missed her voice.

Quentin laughs, 'Two years of college will do that to you.'

'Which is why my way is so much better.' She spins a postcard holder around lazily with a flick of her finger and watches them whirl around and around. He could watch her forever. 'How have you been, Quentin?' she asks without breaking her gaze from the postcards.

'I've been happy,' he answers straight away. 'And I've been sad, and I've been angry and alone and cheerful, and bitter. I mean, it's been two years, Margot, I've felt a lot of things in two years.' His words come out harsher then he had intended them to. He couldn't blame her for her absence considering he was the one who had walked away from her. Once upon a time she had asked him to come with her. Leaving had been the right decision for him at the time. They were both young, and like Margot had been right. Neither knew who they were back then. Quentin certainly felt like a different person to that guy in Agloe who had chased vainly after the idea of the girl in front of him.

He doesn't let himself wonder what his life would be like if he _had_ taken up her offer. He doubted manning the bookstore cash till at his college would have factored into that future.

Of course, Margot was far too awesome to bring that up. Either that, or she didn't care about dwelling in the past. Quentin didn't want to think about that. But he can tell that she is a little surprised at his reaction. For the briefest moment her eyes darken and she frowns, the look of someone seeing a side of another person they hadn't been expecting.

He doesn't want that look on her and quickly asks, 'What about you? Are you happy?'

The mood lightens, her frown disappears and she gives him a knowing smile. 'I've been happy.' She offers no more explanation and instead closes the distance that had been dancing between them with three long strides. After a split second hesitation, she throws her arms around him and pulls him into an overwhelming hug. Her hair hits his face, bringing along with it her smell and the soft texture of her cheek on his, and instinctually he wraps her small frame tight against him and buries his head into the crook where her neck met her collarbone.

'I've missed you, Margot.' He says it quietly. He doesn't care if she responds or not. It was the truth and sometimes the truth just needs to be said. He wonders for a small moment why she was here at his college, what was going to happen next and most importantly, whether his fragile heart could take another split from the girl in his arms. All the work he had put into moving past her had shattered into a million tiny pieces.

'Are you happy now?' Margot pulls back and looks up at him beneath those long dark lashes. She is wearing make up around her eyes, not a lot, but he notices it. He reaches up and shifts her hair from her face.

'I'm a paper boy with a paper girl, right?'

She laughs and slips her hand into his. 'Come on ninja, I want to show you something.'

He lets himself be dragged along because when Margot Roth Speigelman wanted to take you somewhere, only a fool would turn her down. A few students looked on. He had been a relatively quiet guy, went to class and studied. Even at parties he had been pretty reserved. Watching Quentin get dragged through campus by a drop dead gorgeous girl made his fellow students, especially the guys, curious. Thankfully his anonymity, and the fact that Margot had pulled the long dark hood of her jacket over her face, kept people from noticing that he was getting dragged along by a movie star.

Margot led him to a 1968 Pontiac GTO parked casually in the campus loading bay. The number plate was simply ' **mRs** '.

'I see your capitalization hasn't changed.' He got into the passenger seat, while she slipped through her driver window without opening the door, and started the car up. Music started playing as soon as the engine fired up, and Quentin recognized the song as 'Wait' by M83. It was a perfect song for a perfect moment, and he reached forward and turned the volume up. He watched the passing landscape and cars as they drove, while stealing brief glimpses at the girl by his side. Why, after so many years, with no correspondence between them at all, did it feel so normal to be by her side, together once more? There was something special between them, a link born right from the moment they had found Robert Joyner in the park as kids. Where he had taken a step back and she had taken a step forward.

He was in love with her, in spite of the years passed and the fact they were both still growing and changing. In his head, she played out like the worlds most beautiful melody, over and over again. She built and grew louder until she exploded into brilliant white-hot stars, filling his vision. All he could see was Margot. And driving with her now became a moment experienced so few times in a person's life, one that transcended time and space, where the stars aligned and everything was perfect for that one minute. It had only happened with Quentin once before and it had been with Margot.

'Here it is.'

She turned her Pontiac off road and rolled to a stop right on the edge of a massive lake, parking beneath a huge willow tree. He had visited this lake before a hundred times while he had been at college but he had never seen it from this angle before. Alone, isolated from everyone and everything, Margot had made new something that was old and tired. He opened the door and walked to the edge of the lake, looking out across the water. He heard her walk up and stand at his side, one hand shielding the brilliant sun from her equally brilliant eyes. Her hair blew and danced in the wind and she had the smallest smile playing on her lips, like even though she didn't know what they were doing, she was excited.

'This place is prettier up close.'

He raises an eyebrow at her. 'You said everything gets uglier up close.'

'I was 16,' she turns to him. 'I had no idea what I was talking about.'

'Well, I was 16 and 6 months and I knew exactly what I was talking about.' Quentin reaches out and takes her hand. He spins her gently, and holds her like they are at a school dance. She follows his lead, moving from side to side slowly. 'You are prettier up close, M.'

'Mmm'

They dance in silence for a moment, the grass bed their floor and the trees their audience, before the music in their heads fade and they are left standing in relative silence, their faces close and hands clasped within each other. Quentin is breathing like he has run a marathon, and his heart is pumping double time. He was _definitely_ alive at this moment. Alive and wondering what he had said or done that had led him from the bedroom in his dorm room this morning to this place right here. It didn't matter that they were from different worlds and they hadn't seen or spoken in two years, that he was a college student and she was a movie star. Margot may not be a myth but she would always be special to him. 'You're still pretty something.'

Prompted by his words and with nothing between them, Margot closes the gap and kisses him. It's not like the first kiss they had shared. Her right hand grasps his cheek and the other holds the back of his head and pulls him closer still. This was a kiss of abandon and want and Quentin lets himself get lost for a moment because he had dreamt about this for so long and he feels he deserves to enjoy it.

When the kiss ends and they finally break apart, neither really separate too far. He keeps his forehead pressed to hers and looks down at their feet. He hears her breathing, ragged and short, and her voice comes out sounding much the same. 'Come with me Quentin.'

He laughs helplessly. God must have a sense of humor if He thinks Quentin had the strength in him to deny this girl twice in his life.

Except he has to. Yes, he loved her and that would probably be something he would have to accept and live with for the rest of his life. But Margot lived life at a million hours an hour and Quentin lived it like a child taking their first wobbly steps. He couldn't keep up and he didn't have it in him to hold her back from the extraordinary life she deserved. Seeing what she had accomplished in two short years as a high school runaway gave people a small idea of what she was capable of.

'I have got class.' He starts off sounding like a broken record. 'And a life here. And I know to you it is probably boring and mediocre but it is _literally_ all I can handle right now. And you did just kind of appear out of nowhere.'

'And I don't have 'Stable, Secure, Future' stapled to my forehead,' Margot says sarcastically, taking a step back. He keeps her hand in his though since he is afraid to let go just yet. Her next words literally stop his heart.

'You know I love you, right?'

There, said so matter-of-fact, as if his whole world didn't just turn on its axis with those simple five words. He wants to yell and scream and shake her and say of course he didn't know that, how could he possibly have known that considering how they had left things. Instead, with the raging emotions going on within him, the best he can manage is silence and to her credit, Margot didn't seem fazed in the slightest.

'I love you Q. It took me 16 years and too many paper towns to count, because I had been searching for something that had been there all along.' She pulls her hand free from his and walks to the lake edge. 'You know, I read books and watched movies and I took every opportunity thrown my way." She looks up at him. Her hair blows over her face in the light wind. "My life is a series of decisions made in an attempt to find the version of myself that I love and that I can live with and that version is the one I am when I'm with you. You're my anchor, Quentin. You keep me grounded. Without you I'm just blown around by the wind and the tide and the crowd. I am strings tied to nothing.'

Quentin looks at her for a long moment. This was all too much and it was _definitely_ too soon. He felt like he was going to explode and he couldn't tell if it was out of happiness or terror. If he sent her away now, she may never come back. But more importantly, 'How do I know you aren't going to change your mind tomorrow?' He asks her, taking a step back. 'Or later today?' She tilts her head to the side curiously at his words, but he keeps talking regardless, 'How can I be sure that you're not going to get into this car and drive away without a second glance, because you're Margot Roth Speigelman and you are too amazing a person to live a less-than-extraordinary life?'

'I still want to live a more-than-ordinary life, Quentin, I just want to live it with you.' She looks so beautiful that he has trouble listening to her actual words. She belongs on the cover of magazines, on plasma screens, on a red carpet laid out only for her, with thousands of admiring fans screaming adoration. She was a miracle. And she was right here in front of him saying she wanted him. This had to be a dream. He had dreamt it often.

'I want to live an ordinary life though. I want a house and a wife and a kid and a dog.' He says, though his resolve is clearly starting to falter.

'And a white picket fence with the soccer mom SUV parked in the garage,' she cuts in with a grin.

'Our fence doesn't have to be white.'

'I don't want a fence.'

'I want a fence.'

'You are 18 years old Q. There is plenty of time for fences in your life.' She holds out her arms and spins once. 'That's all that life is. Fences that keep us in. I jump them and I want you to jump them with me.' She steps forward and takes his hand in hers, bringing it to rest on her cheek. 'We can be ninjas for years before you have to settle down. I want to travel the world and go on adventures every single day, and have sex on the hood of our car in the middle of night under the stars.'

Quentin almost choked at the thought.

'I want to live this life, but I want you there with me. And I can't promise you that down the line I will want to same things as you. But why do you have to live life with every step planned out and every decision made.' She held up two fingers, measuring out. 'All I'm asking for is one more step out of your comfort zone. One more day with me. And if it's not the most amazing time of your life, and I'm still not what you want in this life, then I will leave.'

Quentin laughs since he knows as well as her that whatever they do will be the greatest thing he's ever done, and that she has been the only certain thing in his life. He feels his resolve cracking and she knows she's playing the winning hand now.

She puts one hand to his cheek and tilts his head to hers. 'One day Q?'

'Alright. One day.'

 _Reviews are appreciated, thanks :)_


	2. Chapter 2

Life for Quentin at college had so far played out pretty predictably for him. He hadn't made any close friends, not like Ben and Radar had been to him. He shared a dorm room with a guy named Mike, a 6 foot tall tanned and taut frat guy who had gotten into college on a football scholarship, so naturally he and Quentin didn't have a lot to talk about. And by a lot, it started and ended with a hello, and _keep your crap on your side._ He had more or less carried his high school career over to college life with him and had resigned himself to the fact that he was boring Quentin Jacobsen and he was destined for the mediocrity of some middle class forgettable doctor type life.

And that would have no doubt been his life if not for the live wire girl sitting across from him right now. She was an injection of pure life straight into his soul. Seeing in her eyes this promise of a journey to be had, had him smiling from ear to ear.

'Fence number one!' Margot ties her long hair back into a rough ponytail as she speaks, which stretches her shirt tight across her chest, which in turn has Quentin finding it hard to focus on any life lessons she was trying to impart on him because she had, undoubtedly, the most magnificent breasts in this fair world. 'Hey!'

'What?' His eyes dart up to her face and pretend they had been there the whole time. After he realizes it is a losing battle, he holds his hands up in surrender like he was being held at gunpoint.

'I see two years in college has turned my glorious gentleman neighbor into your run-of-the-mill male perv,' she shoves his shoulder roughly.

'Okay, I'm sorry,' he apologizes quickly. He definitely deserved it. 'You were saying?'

She raises a magnificent eyebrow at him before continuing. 'Fence number one. How to escape the publicity tour I just ran out on this morning.' She holds up her iPhone to him and he see eleven missed call notifications. Her phone starts buzzing with another incoming call as he looks on. 'These people go mental if a strand of my hair is out of place,' she tells him with a roll of her eyes.

'Who is QuEEn hEll?' he reads out the caller ID.

'My assistant.'

'Wait… you just _ran_ out on a publicity tour?' She nods. 'Well, I'm no celebrity or anything, but aren't publicity tours kind of a big deal?'

Margot raises her eyebrows and drops her mouth open. 'Hold on a second… you're not a celebrity?' He laughs as she feigns shock. 'God, what am I doing here?! I have to leave right now, this has all been some big mistake…'

'Alright, alright, I get the picture.' Quentin concedes as she breaks into laughter.

'There is always another publicity tour. I've been trying to tell these people that. Sometimes I feel like climbing to the top of the Empire State building and screaming it at the top of my lungs. And they all look at _me_ like I'm the idiot who is continuously running down the way up.'

Right, Quentin thinks. Margot was now a celebrity actress and model, the owner of her own completely legitimate Wikipedia and IMDB page. It was an easy fact for him to forget while they were sitting here together. Quentin could so seamlessly slip back into a little world where Margot and he were the only two people on earth and there weren't thousands of people wishing they were in this car right now. They were a long way from the kids they had been in Florida. 'So, what's the plan?'

'That should be your catchphrase, Q. _What's the plan._ You should just cut out the middle man and tattoo it across your forehead.'

'Ha Ha,' he laughs sarcastically. 'And what would your catch phrase be?'

'It's ever changing. At the moment, _miles to go before I sleep_.'

'Robert Frost.'

'Glad to see you still have that literary head of yours. In any case, I only had one thing I had to do today and you were it.' She taps a finger to her lips in thought, clearly not realizing the joy she had just brought him with her words.

'If you have to go and do your publicity tour thing or anything, you know I don't mind, I'll totally understand.'

'Q! These people,' she gives her phone a shake, 'they need to learn that the world will keep spinning in their little paper lives if things don't go according to plan.'

He smiles. 'You sound like the Joker?'

'The Joker?'

'You know, the villain from Batman? He said that people panic when things don't go according to plan, even if the plan is something totally messed up.'

Margot sits still for a long moment as she mulls over his words, and then she shrugs on shoulder. 'Of course I relate to a psychotic clown. Anyway, I think you should decide what we do now.'

'Really?'

'Sure. It's only fair since I pulled you from a no doubt riveting day manning the college bookstore till. I think you can have the privilege of picking our next adventure. Q and Ms Righting Wrongs Volume 2.'

As of now, they hadn't moved from the spot by the lake she had driven to earlier. Sitting in the back seat of her Pontiac for the past half hour, they had spent it kissing and talking nonsense with each other, and kissing some more. Quentin wouldn't have minded spending the rest of this gift of a day with her lips on his, but there were so many things about her he wanted to know and he didn't know when he would next get his chance.

'I want to play Fact or Fiction, the Margot Roth Speigelman addition,' he announces, feeling a little sheepish and quickly earning a roll of her eyes.

'Really? Can't we just go back to making out in this illustrious back seat of mine?'

Quentin bit his fist and squeezed his eyes shut tight. 'That's really not fair, you know.'

'Yes well, people play the hand they have been given.' She makes a move to cross over to him once more but Quentin, through some outer worldly strength of willpower that men should write stories about, holds up his hands and blocks her path. 'Really?' she sighs, one of her hands snaking up and taking hold of his. 'You really want to waste an afternoon sitting here talking about me, to me, with me?'

'Of course I do. It's pretty much all I've wanted since we first met, years before you became this completely epic kick ass super star. And now that, like, one hundred and fifty thousand percent of the American population wants the same thing, I think you owe it to me that I find out first. Besides, you said I could pick what we were going to do.'

'And let it be etched in stone that Margot Roth Speigelman is a woman of her word,' she slumps back into her seat and folds her arms. 'Ask away, Mr. Jacobsen. But can I just request that this stay off the record and that no recordings of any kind be made.'

She is only half joking with her comment but he takes out his phone and hands it over to her as security. Now, what to ask… There was no end to the mysteries that had been painted in Margot's life. She was the stuff of legend and myth. And even though Quentin learnt the hard way that people aren't as idealistic as they can seem, he still imagines that she has lived a pretty extraordinary life. No one can't sneak out of their bedroom window every night for years and not have some pretty astonishing tales to tell.

'Okay,' he claps his hands together.

'I am dying in anticipation over here.'

'Fact or Fiction, you toured with the Mallionaires?' It wasn't a hard hitting or a necessarily deep question but it had been a rumor he had always wondered about.

'Fact,' she answers. 'Although 'toured' is a bit of a strong word. I was hardly with them on most of that tour. I just hitched a ride on their bus and explored the towns while they played their shows.'

'And the bassist?' he asks while dreading the answer.

'Fiction. I _did_ use the whole girlfriend angle to get in with them but nothing ever actually happened. Not that Jackson Bentley didn't try it on a few times. That dude thought 'No' translated into 'Try again tomorrow.' But he was a nice guy. The last day I was with them, I tattooed _mRs_ on his ankle and heeeee…' Margot draws out the word as she pulls her left arm free from her jacket and twists it, revealing a very small and intricately detailed fox face just passed the crook of her elbow, 'gave me this,' she finishes.

'How did I not notice this before?'

'Probably because you've never been in this close proximity to my elbow,' she answers, letting him bring her arm closer for inspection. The tattoo looked pretty impressive for a bass player to have done, considering this little artistic event probably took place during a drunken night partying.

'Did it hurt?'

'Not at all. Jackson on the other hand screamed like a twelve year old girl as soon as the needle touched his skin.' She slips her arm free from his grip and shrugs back into her jacket. 'Next question?' On cue, her iPhone starts vibrating once more with the same called ID as last time.

'I think QuEEn hEll is getting a little angst,' Quentin says. 'Will you get into trouble for this?'

'Fence jumping lesson number two. When you have something other people want and you don't care what they can give you for it, you hold all the power.' She grins roguishly before running her finger along the answer button and switching it to speaker. She puts on a voice as she answers, 'Soldier Speigelman reporting for duty.'

' _Margot! Where the hell are you?!'_ It was a woman's voice on the other end of the line and she did not sound pleased. To Quentin, she mirrored the sound of a scolding mother. Suddenly Queen Hell didn't seem too bad a nickname. ' _You were supposed to meet Channel 5 for a cast interview this morning. Simon is not happy!'_

'Our dear Simon is never happy.'

' _Where are you?'_

'I am on a grand adventure, Jazz. I am sailing the seven seas.' Margot clearly got a kick out of annoying her assistant, and suddenly Quentin had an overwhelming feeling of guilt for taking a part in ruining this poor woman's day. Margot has always lived in a world where the rules didn't seem to apply to her, but that didn't mean they didn't apply to anyone else.

' _You are the worst client I have ever dealt with, you know that?!'_

Margot's smile stays on her face the whole time. 'And yet I have earned you and Simon more money than all your other clients combined. How _does_ that work I wonder?'

' _Yeah, yeah._ ' There is a pause on the line. ' _So what are you saying? You are going to be MIA for the rest of the tour?'_

'Just today, Jazz. Something far more important and awesome has come up that I have to take care of. Tell Simon that I will report in bright and early tomorrow for my sentencing if he gets me off today.' Margot ends the call without waiting for a reply and tosses her phone into the middle console of her car roughly. 'Fence jumped.'

'Will your assistant be alright?' Quentin asks her, the inner nice guy in him refusing to go down without a fight.

Margot smiles at him knowingly. 'Jazz has been with me for a year. She's used to my _irresponsible_ behavior. She calls it Speigelman Shenanigans.'

'Can I ask you a question?'

'Remind me. Isn't that what you've been doing for the past ten minutes?'

Quentin fixes his eyes to hers. 'Where did you go after I left you in Agloe?'

She answers immediately with a straight face. 'I went to their pathetic library and wrote five pages in my journal about you… well, you and Myrna Mountweazel.'

'I mean on a grander scale, Margot. When I got on that bus,' and the memory is etched like a moving picture in his brain, 'I left behind this seventeen-year-old girl who told me she had no idea who she was. And now you are this huge super star who has everything a person could ever want.'

'Everything a person could ever want?' she repeats it slowly.

'Yeah, you know, fame and fortune. The allure of a life us mere mortals can only dream of.'

She looks at him for a long time after he finishes talking, so long that he begins to wonder maybe for a second he had offended her somehow and she was thinking of a way to tell him to get the hell out of her car. Instead, she starts talking after a laborious breath. 'There was this girl who used to roll with us in the modeling industry,' Margot begins. She speaks like she's telling a tale, pausing to choose her words carefully. 'She had been in the business for a few years before I came onto that scene but she and I were similar, you know? She just, kind of, fell into this life while searching for something more. She was so good at what people needed her to do, she was the best around. Designers had her in mind when they thought up new dresses, jackets, bags, shoes. She was the queen of that world. She started dating this young up and coming actor. Not many people knew about them because they wanted to keep it a secret, so they only told a couple of us girls. And then he killed himself. Drug overdose. And she became this person, Quentin… it was like she was still alive but the strings in her had been ripped and shredded in half. She was this shell of the vibrant girl she had once been. Until that time I had never met anyone like that before, and it scared the shit out of me. She was a walking talking reality check. And by all accounts, to people looking on, people like you, she had everything…' Margo pauses. She is looking passed him and out of the window, her eyes on a fixed point in the distance. He has a feeling, however, that she's not looking at anything at all. 'The truth is Quentin, deciding the things that will make you happy in this life, that depends on _you_.' She points a finger to his chest. 'You can have everything in the world and still be a bitter lonely shell of a human being.'

'Is that you?' he asks her bleakly. It wasn't that he always thought of Margot as a suicide risk… it was just that when there was someone you wanted to hold onto so fiercely, you would forever be terrified that someone or something would take them away. And he could never forget that feeling he had gotten when he thought she had died. It was this dull ache inside him that seemed to nullify every other sense in his body. Food had no taste, sights had no color, everything he touched was ice cold to his skin. As if to combat the chilling memory, he reaches across and takes her hand.

'Happiness depends on realizing what the important things in life are before its too late,' she says.

'That's deep.'

'That's what she told me before she announced her retirement from modeling. From the top of this paper world,' Margot clicks her tongue and motions something dropping with her hands. 'Everybody was shocked when they heard. Everybody, except for me. To go from this life to complete isolation…" she shrugs one shoulder. "She left to find her happiness again.'

'And is that what you are doing now with me?' he asks her. 'Finding your happiness?'

'I'm still looking Quentin,' she moves closer and kisses him lightly. 'But you are a step in the right direction.'

 _Reviews are appreciated, thanks :)_


	3. Chapter 3

A step in the right direction.

Margot's words have been bouncing and echoing around Quentin's head like a pinball since she had said them to him. He doesn't know why they bother him so much but they do. They were good, right? They meant she was moving in the right direction. But the way she had said them made the sound, well, not good. Ominous.

He is sitting in the passenger seat of her Pontiac which was parked idle outside the hotel she has been staying at during the press tour for the movie she was currently meant to be promoting. It was the flashiest hotel in the city, reaching high into the crisp blue sky. A building perfectly suited to the high and mighty, Margot had joked as she pulled into the drop-off zone. She had said she needed to run in and grab something and that it would only take a minute. Half an hour has passed and there is still no sign of her, leaving Quentin with nothing much to do except think. Too much thinking was never good for him. He had always been one of those people to over-think, over-complicate, over-analyze. And right now, he was over-analyzing the very words she had said to him earlier.

A step in the right direction.

Quentin had made it a point _not_ to actively follow her career online for two very solid reasons. The first, he had been forcing himself to move on from his childhood obsession with her and typing Margot's name into Google search every day didn't quite qualify as 'moving on.' And secondly… well, with every passing month, her behavior seemed to grow crazier and more extreme.

Since her inception into the celebrity world, the media portrayed Margot Roth Speigelman as the wild girl, the life of the party, the jester. Front-page headlines of her passed out cold in bars, carted off in ambulances, attending world famous rehab centers became commonplace, word association with Margot Roth Speigelman's name. It was as if she lived life to the full in every single aspect, even the ones that were so clearly terrible for her health.

For years, stories had floated around about how the modeling industry ran parallel to drug use. There had been photos after photos of beautiful young woman bent over snorting up pure white cocaine from tightly rolled up hundred dollar bills. There hasn't been a shot of Margot doing drugs yet but it didn't stop Quentin from wondering if that was what she had been referring to when she had said 'a step in the right direction'. Maybe up until now Margot had been running and dancing in the wrong direction. Maybe it was the shock of what had happened to her model friend that had sent her running scared back to him. There couldn't be a cleaner and more boring lifestyle than the one Quentin Jacobsen led. If Margot had come here trying to find her happiness with him…

'God, sorry Q, my manager is driving me mental!'

He was so caught up in his wonderings he hadn't noticed Margot's return.

'You changed clothes,' he notes with an approving nod. She still had her hooded leather jacket, but now she was wearing long dark jeans, Nike leather hip tops and a simple grey T-shirt. 'You look like the Margot of Old.'

'Well, if I only get to spend twenty four hours with you, these durable garments mean whatever we end up doing today won't be hampered by bad clothing choices,' she explains as she gets in beside him and cranks the stereo. _Punching In A Dream_ by The Naked and Famous. She had good taste in music.

'Speaking of, you still owe me at least eleven more Fact or Fiction answers.'

'Can I just say eleven is an _excellent_ number,' she teases gently while flashing him that wicked grin of hers.

'I've always been fond of eleven.'

'Two ones joining together. It's a beautiful thing.'

It was moments like these that Quentin had missed the most, times where she and him could talk and joke about absolutely nothing; where he was on the same page with the most amazing girl in the world.

'Tell you what. I'll trade you, a question for a question. That way I won't die of boredom.'

Quentin shrugs a shoulder. 'Seems fair.'

'Alright,' Margot heads off onto the main road, driving with purpose despite having no destination. 'Fact or Fiction, Mr. Jacobsen. You lost your virginity a year and a half ago to one miss Lacey Pemberton?'

Quentin's heart gave an almighty thump. How in the hell did she know about that?! He hadn't told anybody, not even Radar or Ben. He had been tempted to, of course, but by the time he had finally caught up with the boys, the moment had passed and it just felt like cheap bragging so he had stayed silent. He doesn't answer her, instead assuming his confused and worried look she must be getting used to by now. Margot waves him off.

Last summer break Quentin had gone home to spend two weeks with his parents. Ben and Radar had meant to come back for a high school reunion weekend, except they didn't end up making it meaning Quentin was condemned to fourteen days of nothing but his mother saying how much she misses him being around and his father grilling him about grades. That would have been his fate, until Lacey had appeared at his front door wondering if anyone she knew had come back for summer break as well. It had been nice spending time with her. She looked different from the Lacey he had road tripped with. Her style had changed from short denim skirts to flowing white cotton dresses. Her hair was shorter but still that honey gold color and sat in waves just passed her shoulders. And Quentin had always been improbably comfortable around her despite her being drop dead gorgeous. Unlike Margot, whose behavior had him constantly on the edge of a coronary, Lacey had this way about her that made spending time with her easy. She had always been sweet to him. Maybe it was because Quentin was comfortable around her that she reciprocated.

They had gone out for coffee and chatted about college. She indeed had gotten into Dartmouth and was studying English Lit, which half way through the year she realized she didn't know what good the degree was going to do for her career-wise. She was still finding herself and they both agreed on the total idiocy it was to have seventeen year old kids make such an important decision, which affected years of there life and kept them in debt for years longer, when half of them just wanted to hook up with each other and hold keggers in their backyard.

One night they had been sitting in her car, parked outside her house after a typical friendly dinner and a movie type evening and Lacey had kissed him. It took him by surprise, since the last few days hadn't seemed remotely romantic to Quentin. And even though no other girl had been able to make him feel what Margot could do with a single look, it had still felt nice when Lacey kissed him so he held her face and kissed her back. They spent the rest of the summer in relative comfort and on their last day Quentin had packed a picnic and blanket and they drove to a secluded part of the park where they sat together drinking cheap beer and talking late into the night. And when he had leant over and kissed her, Lacey pulled him closer still. Afterwards, Quentin and she had agreed that while it had been a nice summer break fling, neither were looking for anything more serious than that. However, as Margot had so aptly pointed out, she had been his first experience into the magical world of sex. He could have done a lot worse that Lacey Pemberton.

He wishes he can read Margot's body language or face but her green eyes give nothing away. 'I don't know why I feel guilty about it,' he admits after a long while.

'It's because you are in love with me.'

He doesn't bother denying it.

'That's why you feel guilty. And she felt the same, by the way. She practically called me to confess her sins after summer break.'

'You're still in touch with her?'

'That was actually the first time we have talked since Agloe.'

'Oh.'

'You have _got_ to be kidding me!'

At first he thinks she's talking to him but he soon realizes her eyes are fixed on something up ahead. Margot guides her car up onto the curb, coming to a very illegal park beside a bus stop.

She slips out of her car window and kicks a poster of her movie pinned onto the side of the bus stop. It was a thriller where she plays a girl who becomes the target of an obsessed serial killer, she had explained to him earlier. In any case, the poster was of Margot's face and not much else. Clearly the advertising company had an idea of what would generate the most interest and money and Quentin applauded them for it.

'So… what are we doing here?'

'They air brushed the hell out of my face in this poster,' Margot answers in disgust. He can't tell where they might have airbrushed but he was a lost cause when it came to her. And when Margot put her mind to something, arguing became a lost cause too. 'I object to this objectification!' She reaches into the pocket of her jacket and pulls out a thick black marker pen. Uncapping it, she then draws a mustache over her own face.

Quentin runs up to her while looking around for any cops. 'What are you doing? That's vandalism in broad daylight!'

'Is it though?' she asks back while still coloring in. 'It is _my_ face after all. How can you vandalize yourself?' Stepping back, she admires her handiwork which he has to admit is pretty impressive. 'Ha ha. Vandalize yourself. That sounds vaguely sexual, don't you think? It could totally be another term for masturbation.'

'That is so wrong,' Quentin says but he has to laugh at her ramblings. 'Come on. We should get out of here before anyone sees you vandalizing yourself.'

'Yeah, I probably would get arrested for that.' She slips into her seat once more while Quentin clambers into the shotgun seat.

'Where to now?'

She shoots him a sideways glance. 'What are you talking about? There has got to be, like, a dozen more of these posters that need to be fixed Q.' She steps on the gas, her tires squealing on the pavement. 'They are wrongs that must be righted with this,' she holds up her felt pen and grins.

Quentin accompanies her as they tag poster after poster with Margot's trusty marker pen. They run into no police or security of any kind, which while being fortunate for them, had him a little on edge considering they were getting away with felony after felony with no consequence and it made him wonder whether the criminals in this town were in any danger at all.

The only time someone stopped them was when a group of three girls came up to them. They had to have been fifteen or sixteen years old and they approached Margot cautiously as she was finishing up on their seventh poster.

'Are you Margot Roth Speigelman?' one asked in a voice that echoed reverential awe.

Margot turns to them, flashes that wicked smile of hers and answers in the most legitimate sounding British accent, 'I get that a lot actually. My name is Amanda.' She holds out her hand and shakes the other girls hands in greeting. Quentin can only watch in amazement as Margot convinces them that she isn't herself, despite standing directly beside a giant poster of her face. She would never cease to amaze him.

'You _really_ look like her! You should be an impersonator or something!'

'Oh, I am an impersonator,' Margot winks at Quentin before taking his hand. 'We have to run but it was nice meeting you girls.' She takes off towards the Pontiac, which is parked illegally on the sidewalk.

'Now that was impressive,' he says as he jogs behind her.

'Young girls will believe anyone with a British accent,' Margot jokes. 'We should get out of here though, I think the brunette at the back knew I was bull shitting her.' She slips into the drivers seat and guns the engine alive.

'I like your car, by the way.'

'My prized possession,' she says back, stroking the steering wheel lovingly. 'It's the first thing I bought once I booked my first big film. Where to now, Q?'

'Well, if you have finished defacing all of your posters, I'm kind of getting hungry. Is there anywhere in particular a model slash actress slash legend likes to eat? I mean, will In-N-Out burger ruin the temple that is your body?'

'Not as much as vodka and cocaine does.'

As she pulls off the curb, Quentin isn't a hundred percent sure if she is joking or not. It's kind of a terrifying thought and once more the hamster wheel in his brain starts running a marathon once again. However, driving towards In'N'Out Burger wasn't really the time to get into anything deep and serious.

'So after my awkward Fact or Fiction questions, I believe it's my turn.' She nods her consent and he claps his hands together. 'Fact or Fiction. Margot Roth Speigelman hates the celebrity lifestyle?'

'Where did you hear that?'

'It was on the cover of Famous magazine last week.'

'Have you been media stalking me Q?'

He shakes his head. 'I've actually been actively avoiding you but it's been kind of difficult when the media feels the need to plaster your face on every wall, screen and magazine. You didn't answer my question.'

'I can't. It isn't true but its not entirely false either.'

'Those are literally polar opposites, pure contradiction.'

'I am large, Quentin. I contain multitudes.'

'Walt Whitman.' She smiles at his recognition. He must have read through her copy of the Leaves of Grass a thousand times when he had been searching for clues on her location.

'It's true, though. There are aspects of this life that drive me insane. I thought Florida was a paper town and I was right, but Hollywood is full of people pretending their lives aren't absolutely meaningless. People who go around convincing anyone who will listen that they are doing something important and that they matter. It will drive you insane living like that. Especially when deep down you know you are living selfishly.

'So why stick around.'

'Not everyone is fake. I have met amazing people. And it does have its ups. I've been able to travel and see more of the world than I could have hoped for. I have lived a pretty extraordinary life Quentin.' She looks at him for a long moment. 'Can you say the same?'

And the little hamster started running once more.

 _Reviews are appreciated, thanks :)_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Just a quick warning: drug use is discussed in this chapter**_

Cocaine, also known as benzoylmethylecgonine or coke, is a strong stimulant mostly used as a recreational drug. It is commonly snorted, inhaled, or injected into the veins. Mental effects may include loss of contact with reality, an intense feeling of happiness, or agitation.

Quentin had just found a tiny white snap lock back filled with the drug inside of Margot's glove box.

He hadn't been meaning to pry, it was just that Margot had run into the petrol station for something and she hadn't come back for a while so he had gotten bored and started going through her stuff. Okay, so maybe that qualified as prying but he had never ever in a million years thought he would find _that_.

It couldn't have been more than a gram and it felt weightless between his fingers when he had held it. Then, realizing with a start that he _was_ holding drugs in broad daylight for all to see he had shoved it right back where he found it and quickly shut the glove box up.

It might not be hers, he reasoned. Maybe one of her friends left it for safekeeping. And Margot was her own person. She could do whatever she wanted. She didn't have to answer to Quentin or explain herself. Part of Quentin knew the he was just telling himself what he wanted to hear, but he didn't bring it up with her, not then. They were having such a good time and he didn't want to ruin it.

'So you haven't caught up with _anyone_ from high school other than me?'

Margot and he are sitting cross-legged on the bonnet of the Pontiac outside one of the many central parks situated around North Carolina, burger wrappers and plastic cups of cola spread out around them. The young guy at the In'N'Out burger drive through almost had a heart attack when she pulled up at the order window. It was surreal for Quentin to see how people reacted to her. There was an order of actions that everyone seemed to go through, almost like the stages of grief.

First, there was uncertainty, the 'is it really her?' thought process. It was true people looked different on camera so people did the classic double take. After all, the chances of running into someone famous in an informal situation was slim to none for a lot of people so they doubt themselves.

Secondly, there was shock, the 'oh my great glorious God, it is her!' realization. They smile and giggle and lose their shit.

Third, the 'what should I do about it.' Some people just start snapping photos of her on their phones or tablets like paparazzi. Quentin notices Margot's discomfort at these people. She much prefers people to just ask her for an autograph or a photo.

And lastly, the acceptance stage. Yes, they had just met one of their idols and now they have to let them go. The few fans Quentin and she had run into have all been pretty good at letting her go her way.

However not everybody recognized Margot and on those occasions she seemed to revel in the time when she could live how she used to. It was those times she was the most like the girl he used to know and love. Quentin had always known she was amazing but now the rest of the world had finally caught up with him.

She answered his question with a mouth full of burger. 'Why is that so surprising? You do remember my sheer desperation when it came to _leaving_ Florida and everyone there?'

He laughs. 'I have a vague recollection. You seem to have had so many friends at school, though. Everyone knew Margot Roth Speigelman. I would have thought some of them would have stuck.'

'Lacey was my closest friend and last summer was the first time we've spoken since Agloe. What about you?'

'I still catch up with Ben and Radar sometimes.'

'Who?'

That's right, Quentin thinks. Margot never officially met Ben or Radar, at least not in any memorable context. 'They're my best friends. They actually helped me decipher all your clues and they came with me on the road trip to find you. Ben actually convinced me to go after you. If it wasn't for him I would probably have done the classic Quentin move of nothing.'

Margot is nodding her head but he can tell she is only half listening. He follows her eyes and in the distance a group of young prep guys are walking their way. He knows she is wondering whether they are going to recognize her by how her muscles tighten like a wild animal, fight or flight.

'Margot.'

He breaks whatever spell she had fallen under and she turns back to him. 'Sorry. I just don't want our day together to be ruined by anything.' _Like cocaine in the glove box_ , Quentin thinks before he can stop himself. 'And if I have to get into my car and go into hiding because some idiot prep boy calls the paparazzi on me, that will count in my book as a ruined day. Honestly Q, I wish time and space could transcend back to a time where it was you and I against the world.'

As the guys approach Quentin leans over and kisses her, blocking her face from their view. He slips a hand up to cup her cheek as her hair falls like a curtain around them and they stay like that until the small group had passed. He still revels at how it feels to kiss her, the taste of her lips under his own. Quentin pulls back, albeit unwillingly, and resumes his position opposite her once the boys had moved a safe distance away.

'Thank you.'

'Don't mention it,' he drinks some cola down. 'Honestly, if you ever need me to kiss you to hide your identity, just give me a nod.'

She smiles at him and its reward enough. 'Ben and Radar? What are they like?'

'Radar's parents got into the Guinness Book of World Records for having the largest collection of Black Santa's.' Quentin answers as if that simple sentence explains everything there is to know about Radar.

'Seriously?' Margot whips out her phone and starts tapping at the screen. 'Is that Radar?' she holds the phone out to Quentin. It's a photo of his parents receiving their official certificate. They got the word almost one year ago that they had finally been awarded the record. His father and mother's faces are nothing short of ecstatic and standing between them is Radar, his expression devoid of any emotion and hidden between his thick framed glasses. He was holding a black Santa figurine in his hands. 'I can see he was really happy about it.'

'Oh yeah. Black Santa's were a real turn on for the high school girls.'

'And Ben?'

'Ben is…' Quentin pauses as his brain racks through words to describe his friend. 'He's…'

'Wow, I really want to meet this guy. You have painted such a vivid picture of him.'

'You know, you should really try a little stand up comedy act, I think you would do really well.'

She rolls her eyes at him.

Quentin screws up the rubbish from his burger and stuffed it inside the paper bag it came in. 'I thought for sure Jase and Becca Worthington would have tried to get back in touch with you and freeload off your success somehow.'

'They got married?' She couldn't hide her shock. 'Now I feel kind of bad about the whole naked picture, fish in the cupboard thing. Guess I was standing in the way of true love.'

'Well, true love and an accidental pregnancy.'

Margot laughs, 'Nothing spells out I love you like a shotgun wedding to a pregnant teenager.'

'What about your parents? And Ruthie?' It was a landmine question. He can almost visibly see Margot shut herself up and erect walls up around her emotions. Her green eyes darken and she turns away from him.

'Pass.'

'What about if I make it one of my Fact or Fiction questions? You have to answer those.' He knows why he is pushing for an answer despite how clearly she didn't want to talk about it. It would give him more insight into her. It would give him more insight into why there is a snap lock bag full of white powder in her glove box.

'And you are willing to use up one of your eleven precious questions?'

'Absolutely.'

Her eyes are defiant but she answers gamely, 'my asshole parents hit me up a few times a year for a cushy little hand out usually accompanied by the words, _it's the least you can do after all the crap you put us through, Margot_. They didn't give a damn about contacting me when I was in Agloe living off scraps and sleeping in an abandoned motorhome. As soon as I booked my first big gig, suddenly they are back in the picture. My phone starts buzzing and my mother asks how I've been like she actually gives a fuck for the first time in her life. It's the tired age old story I guess.'

There is a dull ache in the pit of Quentin's stomach as he listens to her talk. He had always known her parents weren't going to win any awards but he didn't know the extent of what Margot grew up with. 'And what about Ruthie?'

A small smile plays over Margot's lips as she answers, 'I talk to her almost every week. I would take her with me in a second if my life had any semblance of stability. But this world is no place for fifteen year old girl.' Quentin thinks back to the coke sitting one foot from him and can't help but agree. 'Besides that, my parents tolerate her a lot more than they did me. She is far less a pain in the ass. And Ruthie knows the second she turns eighteen that my door is always open.'

'That's nice. You and Ruthie always had a close relationship.'

Margot bumps a shoulder to his. 'She _is_ one of my two favorite people in this world.' She slid from the bonnet onto the ground and brushed the crumbs from her jeans. Across the park Quentin sees a bus pull up and people start disembarking in droves. It must be some tourist thing but he sees Margot's heckles go up once more. 'Q, we may have to lay low in the Margot mobile until this group moves on,' she grabs his hand and tugs him to the Pontiac's back seat where the windows are tinted dark.

'Do you ever get tired of this?'

'What? Hiding out like a criminal? Course not, this is what I live for.'

'I'm serious Margot. I've only been with you for half a day and _I'm_ tired of it. Is fame really worth losing the ability to walk around unnoticed and anonymous.'

She looks at him and a long moment passes before she answers, 'Nothing is worth losing your privacy. Kids are hardwired these days to believe they are nobody until everybody notices them. Anonymity is a gift and once you lose it, it's gone forever. They should have that as a warning.'

Sometimes, well, a lot of times, Margot spoke with such eloquence and understanding that she didn't seem like she was born in the right era. Even back when they were eighteen and outside the SunTrust Centre, she spoke about one pausing to reflect on ones achievements. He didn't know a lot of eighteen year old kids who talked like that.

'Goddamit, they are coming closer,' Margot grumbles under her breath.

Quentin clears his throat. 'You know, my offer for stealthy hidden kisses still stands.'

She raises an eyebrow and gives him a nod of approval. 'Very forward of you Q. It's kind of sexy,' before she grabs him by the collar of his shirt and pulls him to her.

Fence Number Three for Quentin: Kissing Margot Roth Speigelman.

He had kissed or been kissed by four different girls in his lifetime. Considering his introverted nature that was pretty impressive in his book.

The first was his ex girlfriend Suzie Chung. It was a relatively painful memory for him to relive. They had been in the band room together and Quentin had been wondering for a good hour whether they were on a date or not and wondering if she was wondering the same thing and wondering what even constituted a date between school kids anyway. She had been playing him a piece of music on her cello which might have sounded romantic if it hadn't been a practicing fifteen year old cellist and an awkward fifteen year old Quentin who frankly hated the sound of a cello when it was being played _well_. In any case, after a mildly screechy rendition of _Somewhere Over the Rainbow,_ he had plucked up the courage to make his move. Except when he leant over to kiss her Suzie hadn't been expecting it and the bow of her cello swung back and hit him in the throat.

Feeling incredibly guilty she apologized profusely and after his coughing fit had finished she had kissed him. So his first kiss could more or less be put down as a pity kiss. It still didn't stop him from calling up Ben and Radar and filling them in though.

Amanda Kate was a girl he had been casually flirting with while they worked at the bookstore together. She was pretty in that valedictorian kind of way. In fact, thinking about it, she was almost the female version of Quentin himself.

While they were locking up the bookstore she had kissed him.

Surprised, he didn't have time to react. She turned and left and he hasn't seen her since so he imagines she might have been disappointed by his performance.

Lacey was the third girl he had ever kissed. She kissed how she looked, flirty, fun and confident. Someone who had already suffered through the slobbers and the tongue drillers until they could comfortably negotiate another's mouth without any awkward biting or noises. A thoroughly pleasant experience.

And then there was Margot.

Sprawled together in the back of her Pontiac, Quentin was currently experiencing sensory overload. The leather of the car seats made the soft warmth of her skin echo and the smell of her hair was making him woozy. Her lips and her tongue should be awarded medals in performance.

He tries to keep up with her but he was out of moves and she was just getting started. It wasn't because he was hopelessly pathetically in love with her, she was just that brilliant at it.

 ** _Thanks for reading, reviews are appreciated :)_**


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